satellite.
Abort mission.
Return to base.
Don't touch that dial.
Detain Richards
and proceed as ordered.
Richards, what are you doing?
Ladies and gentlemen!
If you'll please bear with us!
We're experiencing
technical difficulties!
Bullshit!
It's show time!
Get the people out!
Come on!
Thought it was pretty funny
out there in the zone.
What's the matter now, bitch?
Why aren't you laughing?
Because there's nothing funny
about a dickless moron...
with a battery up his ass!
Out! Out!
I'll show you dickless!
- Get out of my way!
- Get down! Down!
Let's go!
Hello, cutie pie.
One of us
is in deep trouble.
Sven, do you want to talk
to Mr. Richards?
Well?
I got to score some steroids.
You look pissed.
Believe me,
you got every right to be.
But, hey, will you
just let me explain?
This is television.
That's all it is.
It's nothing to do with people.
It's to do with the ratings.
For 50 years,
we've told them what to eat...
what to drink, what to wear.
For Christ's sake,
don't you understand?
Americans love television.
They wean their kids on it.
They love game shows,
they love wrestling.
They love sports and violence.
So what do we do?
We give 'em what they want!
We're number one, Ben.
That's all that counts.
Believe me. I've been
in the business 30 years.
I haven't been in show business
as long as you have...
but I'm a quick learner...
so I'm going to give the audience
what I think they want.
You bastard!
Drop dead!
I don't do requests.
No!
That hit the spot.
Yeah!
All right! Yeah!
Richards! Richards!
Richards! Richards!
Richards! Richards!
Richards! Richards!
Edited By
Tameem666
Edited By
Tameem666
Edited By
Tameem666
Edited By
Tameem666
Edited By
Tameem666
Edited By
Tameem666
Edited By
Tameem666
Edited By
Tameem666
Edited By
Tameem666
The Running Man
has been brought to you by...
Breakaway Paramilitary Uniforms...
Orthopure Procreation Pill...
and Cadre Cola...
it hits the spot.
Promotional considerations
paid for by...
Kelton Flamethrowers...
Wainwright
Electrical Launchers...
and Hammond and Gage
Chain Saws.
Damon Killian's wardrobe
by Chez Antoine...
19th-century craftsmanship
for the 21 st-century man.
Cadre trooper
and studio guard sidearms...
provided by Colchester,
the pistol of patriots.
Remember, tickets for the ICS
studio tour are always available...
for class-A citizens
in good standing.
If you'd like to be a contestant
on The Running Man...
send a self-addressed,
stamped envelope...
to ICS Talent Hunt,
care of your local affiliate...
and then go out
and do something really despicable.
I'm Phil Hilton.
Good night and take care.Yankee-nine-niner,
what are your coordinates?
Zero-two-zero, flight level one-five.
We're above release point Echo-Bravo-one.
Move in and check it out.
Roger. Moving in.
Food riot in progress.
Approximately 1,500 civilians.
No weapons evident.
Proceed with Plan Alpha.
Eliminate anything moving.
I said the crowd is unarmed.
There are lots of women
and children down there.
All they want is food, for God's sake!
As you were, Richards.
Proceed with Plan Alpha.
All rioters must be eliminated.
The hell with you.
I will not fire on helpless people.
Abort mission. We return back to base.
- Lieutenant Saunders, do you copy?
- Affirmative.
Take command.
Detain Richards and proceed as ordered.
Richards, what the fuck are you doing?
Shit. Let's get him!
- God damn it!
- Shit, we're pitching over!
I got it! I got control!
They said detain him. Don't drop him.
Richards, you're gonna fry for this.
And I'll see you in hell.
Come on, keep digging.
- What's the holdup?
- This one's had it.
Watch the detonator.
Get that garbage out of here. Move!
Hey, Charley,
did you see The Running Man last night?
I never miss